Friday, April 27, 2007

Today is my baby sister's birthday and in her honor I'm going to run an updated version of one of my very first posts about her called Musical Pearls Before Sisterly Swine. If you've already read it, scroll to the bottom of the post for a little addition to the story.

I would also like to send a Happy Birthday tomorrow to my Sister-In-Law, Fancy Pants, who is married to my brother, Mr. Prodigy.

Last weekend, my baby sister (whom I shall henceforth refer to as 'Mz. Opera') got the part of Madame Butterfly in a small yet sophisticated opera company in a small yet sophisticated midwestern city! I am so proud of you, Mz. Opera.

And to think Mz. Jackson and her other sister, Mz. Blue Eyes, almost ruined a budding career in its early stages.

Many years ago (I'm not telling you how many years, Mz. Jackson does not reveal her age to friends or strangers), my mother was driving me and my sisters, Mz. Blue Eyes and Mz. Opera home from church one evening. Mz. Opera was about five, I was thirteen, and Mz. Blue Eyes was twelve. As we headed down the single-laned country road that led to our little house in the big woods, my mother asked Mz. Opera about her day at Kindergarten.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," we both muttered. After all, we would much rather discuss the sweaty, prepubescent boys we saw at church than listen to some nursery rhyme set to song, but whatever. Mother had spoken.

Little Mz. Opera drew her body up straight, pointed her black Cherokee eyes heavenward, and belted out in true opera fashion the following:

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong bell,who put pussy in the well?

Did Mz. Blue Eyes and I hear the budding and brilliant voice of a future star? Nope. All we heard was one word: pussy. And since we'd recently learned on the school bus (rolling school of smut education) that the word could mean something other than cat, we both burst into laughter.

Poor Mz. Opera was completely smashed. She shut her mouth immediately, gave us both an accusing glare, and sank back into her seat.

I, smitten immediately with the guilt that is integral to my nature, begged, "I'm sorry, Mz. Opera! We weren't laughing at you! We were laughing at..."

I stopped here. Now how was I supposed to explain why we were laughing? To a little five year old? With my mother well within slapping range?

I looked to Mz. Blue Eyes, but she just shrugged. Truth be told, she'd been a little jealous of Mz. Opera since the day they brought her home from the hospital and had found her to be somewhat of a pesky annoyance ever since. Such is sisterly love. No help there.

I stammered, "We just thought the song was funny! Your voice is so pretty! Sing some more."

But Mz. Opera would not make another peep. In fact, she didn't cast her musical pearls before her sisterly swine for at least another ten years. But when I heard her blast the roof of her high school auditorium when she sang the national anthem for her high school graduation before going on to study opera, I was finally released from my prison of guilt.

Ah, it feels good to be free. Sing on Madame Butterfly! Sing on.

Note: I found out later that Mz. Opera decided later that evening she was going to run away from us ungrateful hooligans who had no appreciation for her artistic talent. She made it all the way to the end of the first leg of our mile long drive before my brother, Mr. Prodigy, caught up with her and convinced her to come home.

A message from Mz. Jackson

This blog is in the process of being updated as of Dec. 2008...check back in for changes!

Discussions on Romance, Relationships, and Marital Bliss

Fasten Your Seatbelts...It's going to be a bumpy ride.

Coffee With Mz. Jackson, introduces...

Mz. Jackson, local journalist, wannabe New York Times Best Selling novelist, who works hard to further truth, justice and the American way. Of course the fact that she loves to write fiction, which is basically lying and getting paid to do so, doesn't seem to live up to her creed, but she has no time for such details...Mr. Jackson: Mz. Jackson's mostly sweet spouse who has a bit of a devilish streak that keeps one wondering: "What's that man up to now?"Her Royal Highness: Mz. and Mr. Jackson's beautiful eldest daughter, whose Aries nature endows her with a sense of natural royalty and prompts her to lord it over her siblings and anyone else who will let her.Jock Genius: The only son in the Jackson family whose high intelligence and athletic prowess make for an interesting combination.Sweet Baby: The Jackson's lovely youngest child, whose continuous struggle to dethrone Her Royal Highness makes for darn good entertainment.Also starring:Sunnybrook Rebecca: Mz. Jackson's esteemed friend and co-author of lies (writing partner).Mz. Opera, Mz. Blue Eyes, and Mr. Prodigy: Mz. Jackson's younger siblings, who have enough dirt on Mz. Jackson to bury her three times over...

About my home

I live in the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma and the Cherokee (Tsa-la-gi) branch of my family traces its Oklahoma roots back to the Trail of Tears.
Oklahoma is a Choctaw word which means "Red Man," literally translated Okla (Man) Homa (Red).
The name of my "town," Nuda, means "Crazy" in Cherokee.

A Daily Blessing

A Blessing for Cheryl F.:
May every door open that needs to open.
May blessings be upon you going in and coming out.
May you find opportunities you didn't even know existed.
May your family and children be blessed.
Amen

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About Me

Writer, wife, mother, coffee lover. Currently I write non-fiction for a local publication. I have co-authored a novel with my best friend and writing partner, Rebecca DeMauro (SEE The Rants from Sunnybrook Farm on links on links), which we hope to see in print very soon.